


Transformative

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [23]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Background Relationships, Boarding School, F/M, M/M, Stiles has an attitude, nerd!derek, rebel!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek first meets Stiles, he can't imagine doing anything more than simply co-existing with him in their shared dorm. Stiles is loud, obnoxious, and has a list of issues a mile long. Derek, however, might just be what Stiles needs.</p><p>((Due to several past issues, if you do not care for the polyamory tags, then do not come here only to comment with that. Comments of such nature will be immediately deleted.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transformative

Sat on top of his desk, his legs splayed in a lazy sprawl, nails painted black drumming against the wood and his hair sticking up everywhere like he'd just been fucked, Stiles Stilinski regarded his new roommate with hungry, kohl-rimmed eyes. "Didn't believe them when they said they were sending another one," he said almost thoughtfully, before shaking himself a little and refocusing on the new guy's face. "You must be Derek. Has anyone ever told you that you're insanely hot?"

Still wary of this place-- he'd wanted to go, but Derek wasn't exactly the most outgoing of people-- Derek startled when his roommate spoke. "I-- uh, what?" he stammered, unconsciously fiddling with his glasses; a nervous habit he'd never managed to break. His messenger bag slipped, and he fumbled it, though it thankfully landed on his bed.

Stiles smirked. "You heard." He hopped off his desk and held out a hand. "Stiles."

Derek hesitated before shaking the other's hand; what the hell kind of name was Stiles? "Derek," he said finally.

"I know." Stiles' smirk was still in place, and his fingers lingered against Derek's wrist for a good few seconds longer than they should. When he finally let go, he stepped back and swept an arm out in a gesture that encompassed the entire room. "Well. Welcome to hell. I hope we meet your expectations."

Derek jerked his hand away, cheeks burning. "Well, I heard this was a good school, and I compared it to a lot of other schools and this was the best, so..."

Stiles barked out a laugh. "Maybe on paper. This shithole is full of stuck-up kids with rich daddies who quite literally pay for their grades. So, unless you're one of those people, you're pretty much screwed."

Derek shrugged. "My parents are pretty well-off, I guess," he said quietly, edging away from the other teenager to start unpacking.

Stiles' expression darkened. "Right," he said coldly. "Okay. Well. This half of the room is mine, obviously. Keep your shit away from my shit, especially in the bathroom, and we'll be fine."

Derek blinked at the sudden one-eighty, but after a moment he just nodded. "Okay," he said, confused.

"Okay." Stiles grabbed his iPod off his desk and slipped the earbuds in as he got onto his bed. He turned the volume up full.

 

************

Derek had come in to this school halfway through the first semester; academically, that wasn't a problem. Socially, it could be, if Derek particularly cared about that sort of thing. He didn't, to a certain extent-- he wouldn't mind having a friend or two, but it wouldn't kill him if he didn't make any.

However, _he_ might end up killing his new roommate-- what was the guy's problem? He backtalked all the teachers, never quit fidgeting, and always had some sort of sarcastic comment to make. Unfortunately, Derek was assigned a seat next to Stiles in English, his favorite subject. When he couldn't even concentrate on what the teacher was saying-- and he was used to blocking out his siblings-- Derek resolved to say something to him.

Derek never had gotten the hang of socializing, however. "What the _hell_ is up with you?" he demanded, stepping in front of Stiles and blocking his path to lunch after the bell rang, dismissing them. "Do you have something against everyone in this school?"

Stiles sighed. "Pretty much, yeah," he answered, sounding bored. "Can I go now?"

”I don't know," Derek retorted. "Can you keep your damn mouth shut during English tomorrow?"

Stiles smirked. "Probably not. Why, am I disrupting your learning experience?"

" _Some_ of us actually give a shit about our grades," Derek huffed.

"Oh, and you're one of those people?" Stiles snapped. "Give me a break. Privileged little rich boys like you don't have the first clue, okay? So get the fuck out of my face."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Right. Just shut the hell up during English, Stiles," he spat, turning on his heel and marching stiffly away.

 

************

Stiles did not do that. In fact, if anything, he got worse. His back-talk became more eloquent, his violations of the dress code more blatant, his fucks to give pretty much non-existent. This build-up of bad behaviour culminated one Tuesday; Stiles was giving Alice Cooper a run for his money in the eye make up department, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. Their teacher became so frustrated with his mouthing off that she actually dismissed the whole class a full twenty minutes early, much to Stiles' amusement.

Derek, on the other hand, had a face like thunder as he stood up to leave. "What the hell is your obsession with this class, anyway?" Stiles wanted to know as soon as they were in the hall. He'd completely ignored the " _And fix your goddamn tie, Stilinski!_ " that had followed him from the room and was currently tying it around his head. "We're in the same chem class and I'm exactly the same in there, but you've never gotten on my case about that."

"I don't really care about chemistry," Derek snapped, digging his fingers into the strap of his bag in an attempt to keep himself grounded. "I like English."

"You like English," Stiles repeated, unconvinced. "Yeah, okay. Pull the other one."

"I don't care whether or not you believe me, but I do. Would I be on your case about it if I didn't?" Derek demanded.

"Probably," Stiles insisted. "If you hadn't noticed, you're kind of an asshole, so."

"Maybe I just don't want to have to put up with your shit," Derek suggested hotly. "'Asshole' seems to be the only language you understand."

"I wonder why, after dealing with people like you my whole life!" Stiles had had enough. "Tell you what. I'll shut up in English if you stay the fuck out of my way. How's that?"

"Deal," Derek snarled, glaring at Stiles.

For some reason, this only annoyed Stiles more, and through his rage he only managed to choke out a sharp, "Good!" before turning and storming away.

 

************

Needless to say, Derek was more than a little pissed by the time he got to lunch, got his tray, and sat down. His movements were jerky, sharp, and the look on his face all but screamed _stay away_. Apparently that wasn't enough, though, and he should have invested in neon signs, because not five minutes into lunch, someone plopped down in the seat across from him. " _What_ ," Derek snarled, voice flat as he looked up, only to see one of the other boys in his English class occupying the seat. He had curly brown hair and a crooked jaw, clearly of Hispanic descent, and the look on his face reminded Derek of a hopeful puppy.

Scott offered Derek a weak smile. "Hi," he said. "I saw you fighting with Stiles earlier and I thought I'd come say... well, hi. I'm Scott."

Derek eyed Scott suspiciously. "Derek," he offered finally, albeit reluctantly. "You know Stiles?"

"Used to," Scott answered with a wistful smile. "Not for a long time now."

Derek decided against prying, instead only nodding. "So, why are you sitting here?”

Scott shrugged. "I guess, I don't know, I wanted to say well done. For not taking his bullshit. I don't think I've seen him let anyone wind him up like that before."

"Might help that I'm his roommate and can make his life a living hell," Derek said thoughtfully. "But still, thanks, I guess. I don't care what he does in the other classes we share, but I happen to actually enjoy English."

"Me too, I'm just really bad at it," Scott laughed, before turning serious. "Please don't make his life a living hell, though. I mean, he's an asshole and you should give as good as you get, but I don't want him to be miserable."

"Somehow I get the feeling that if he's miserable, he'll make me miserable, too," Derek commented dryly. "What are you having trouble with?" Normally Derek wasn't this talkative, but Scott seemed likable enough.

Scott chuckled softly. "Pretty much all of it."

Derek was surprised to find himself offering, "I could help you, maybe?"

Scott's eyes went wide. "Are-- are you sure? I wasn't hinting, I swear."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have offered if you had been."

Scott flushed, but he beamed through it. "Thanks, man."

Derek nodded. "No problem; tell me more about this place."

Secure in his welcome, Scott grabbed his sandwich and bit into it. "What do you want to know?"

Derek shrugged. "Who runs the place? Students, I mean."

"Specifically? Jackson Whittemore and Lydia Martin," Scott supplied. "Super rich, super beautiful, super popular. The usual." He leaned forwards and gestured to a table behind Derek with his sandwich. "That's them over there."

Derek twisted in his seat to look at the table Scott pointed out. "What about the brunette sitting with them?"

"That's Allison," Scott said with a dreamy smile. "She moves in the same circles, but she's... different."

 _Oh._ Derek really didn't want to hear Scott mooning over his crush, so he quickly nodded to a table of three-- a bombshell blonde, a curly-haired boy with incredible cheekbones, and Tall, Dark, and Handsome(or at least, that was how some romance novel would describe the last one, if Derek read those. Which he didn't.) "What about them?"

"You might wanna stay away from them," Scott advised. "They're probably the closest thing Stiles has to friends."

Derek looked back to Scott curiously. "How so?"

Scott shrugged. "No one is quite as 'fuck the system' as Stiles, but they come pretty close."

Derek remembered Stiles's comment the first day he arrived. "Does he fuck any of them?" he asked, morbidly curious.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "No one knows for sure," he said slowly. "Almost definitely Isaac, the one with the curly hair, but I couldn't say about the other two. Why?"

Derek lifted one shoulder in a faux-casual shrug. "Something he said the day I arrived."

Scott searched Derek's face for a long moment before he looked away and sat back in his seat. "I hate to say it, but Stiles is bad news. Don't go there."

Derek made a disgusted noise. "No way; I don't swing that way," he said, but even to him it sounded more than a little defensive.

Scott's eyes widened slightly, but other than that his expression didn't change. "Okay. My mistake."

Derek just nodded, once, before gesturing to Scott's bag. "Tell me what's going on with you in English, and I'll see if I can help," he said, changing the subject for the moment.

 

************

Over the next week, Stiles and Derek somehow managed to stay out of each other's way, which was good for Scott because it meant Derek had a lot of time to tutor him. They'd spent lunch together nearly every day, and today was no different. Except for the fact that today, Allison was sitting directly in Scott's eyeline. "...I'm sorry, what?" Scott reluctantly dragged his gaze back to Derek's face. He looked annoyed. "Were you saying something?"

"Oh for God's sake," Derek groaned. This was the seventh time in ten minutes. He shoved his chair back, getting to his feet. "If you're not going to invite her over then I will." So saying, he spun on his heel and marched over to Allison, Lydia, and Jackson's table.

Lydia was the only one who even bothered to look up at his approach. "Can we help you?"

Derek gestured sharply at Allison. "My friend wants to talk to you but he's too chickenshit to approach you himself," he said bluntly. "Scott McCall, the puppy-faced boy at the table over there."

Allison did look up then, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink. "Scott?" she asked, unable to keep from smiling. "He wants to..?" She shared a look with Lydia and then stood, her smile a now fully-fledged grin. "Okay. I'll come over."

"Thank god," Derek muttered under his breath, turning and leading the way back to his table.

Scott and Allison talked for the rest of lunch, leaving Derek to sit awkwardly on the sidelines. It was only after the bell rang that Scott remembered himself, and he gave Derek an apologetic look as he grabbed his backpack. "Oh shit, I'm sorry, man. We can catch up tomorrow, right?"

Derek looked up from the book he'd ended up reading. "Yeah, sure," he said, forcing a smile and nodding.

Scott looked like he wanted to say more, but then Allison was touching him on the shoulder and saying, "Scott? Class?" and he knew there wasn't time. "I'm sorry," he said again, and rushed off after Allison.

Derek rolled his eyes as he packed up his things; hopefully now Scott would be able to focus a bit more.

 

************

It took about a week for Lydia to decide that they should all spend more time together-- including Derek. Derek protested; Lydia and Jackson were going as a couple, as were Allison and Scott. Besides, Derek didn't much care for bowling. Danny eventually piped up, saying, "It's all right, Derek-- I can teach you. We can be partners."

Derek eyed the other boy suspiciously for a moment, but when he caught the look Lydia was giving him(and the puppy-dog eyes Scott was pulling; even Derek's baby sister had nothing on the teenager) he sighed and nodded. "Okay."

Danny seemed to be irrationally happy about Derek's acquiescence, but Derek brushed it off.

They all met up at the pre-arranged time outside the school's main entrance, and Danny gave a low, appreciative whistle when he saw Derek's tight jeans and leather jacket. He'd never seen Derek dressed in anything other than the school uniform, and _damn_ , had he been missing out. "Hey man, you look great!"

Derek offered Danny a tight, nervous smile; he only really knew Scott here, and barely knew Allison. "Thanks," he managed to get out. "We going?"

"Yep." Danny stayed close to Derek as they walked and then sat next to him on the bus into town, using the minimal space as an excuse to press their thighs together. "So, you're rooming with Stilinski, right?" he asked, eager to start a conversation. "What's that like?"

"Frustrating at first," Derek answered, feeling on edge, partly from the close proximity. "But we mostly just ignore each other now."

"It won't last," Danny said knowingly, even as he lowered his voice. "Scott has kind of a soft spot for him, but even he admits it. Stiles is a nightmare. He gets off on pushing people until they snap."

Derek snorted. "I must've set some kind of record for him-- you had to have heard about the fight we had a couple of weeks ago."

Danny snickered. "I didn't hear _about_ it. I was in the class next door."

Derek flushed. "Ah. Well, yeah. We've kind of already had that big break."

Danny smiled and patted Derek's knee. "Trust me, you ain't seen nothing yet," he laughed. "But we don't want to talk about Stilinski all night. Tell me more about yourself."

 

************

Surprisingly enough, Derek managed to hold his own while bowling; Scott did fairly decently as well; thanks, in part, to the _in_ decent things Allison whispered in his ear, Derek suspected. Danny bowled a perfect 300, with Lydia barely two points behind him.

"This was fun," Derek admitted as they climbed onto the bus to go back to the school.

"I definitely enjoyed myself," Danny agreed smugly. "Especially whenever you were bowling."

Derek looked at Danny curiously. "Um, thanks?"

Danny slid a hand over Derek's thigh, smiling warmly. "We should do it again sometime. Just the two of us?"

"Just the-- you mean like a date?" Derek demanded, his voice hoarse and strangled.Danny withdrew his hand like he'd been burned. "Umm. Yes?" he said weakly.

"Sorry," Derek offered quickly. "It's just, well-- I'm not gay."

"Oh." Of all the things Danny had been expecting, this wasn't one of them. "Not even a little bit?"

Derek shook his head. "I mean, just-- you're nice and all, but I don't... find you attractive in that way?"

That actually made more sense, and Danny smiled, leaning out of Derek's personal space. "My bad," he offered. "I'm sorry; I misunderstood. No hard feelings?"

Derek's answering smile was weak. "Yeah, no, it's fine."

They spent the rest of the journey back to school in companionable, if slightly awkward, silence, and Danny gave Derek a hug the same as the others when they all said goodbye. Stiles, on the other hand, was not so tactful. He was waiting for Derek when he got back, a mean little smirk on his face. "So, how was your date?"

"Not a date," Derek said automatically, stripping out of his shirt and jeans-- why he'd thought a tight pair of jeans would be a good idea, he didn't know.

"Looked like a date," Stiles pushed. "I knew you were hot but I've never seen your ass look _that_ good."

Derek treated Stiles to a supremely unimpressed look as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants. "They were the only 'casual' pants I could find, considering I spent all afternoon studying because _somebody_ pissed off the teacher and wasted the entire class time."

Stiles shrugged. "You should thank me then," he quipped. "Your ass _did_ look great. Did you get a goodnight kiss?"

"What part of 'not a date' don't you understand?" Derek snapped, glaring at Stiles.

Stiles laughed. "Someone's touchy. I guess that means no."

"Go fuck yourself, jackass," Derek said, flipping Stiles off as he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Stiles' laughter followed him from the room.

 

************

Apparently Derek and Scott had passed some sort of test that night at the bowling alley; when they'd headed for their usual table the next day, Lydia and Allison had firmly steered them away and towards their own table. Allison settled Scott next to her, and Lydia all but shoved Derek into a chair next to Danny. Scott integrated well that first day, but it took Derek much longer before he no longer felt like bolting for the exit, and longer still before he managed to speak in anything more than monosyllables.

Over the course of a few weeks, however, Derek found himself relaxing and actually growing to enjoy their company-- except for Jackson, but Derek got the impression he was only put up with because Lydia liked him for whatever reason. The new group spent most lunches together, and even began hanging out after school hours as well. Derek hadn't ever had this many friends at once before, but to his surprise, he found himself enjoying it.

Of course, however, there had to be something to balance that out.

The other shoe came in the form of Stiles, naturally, and it dropped one Saturday night. He'd been out drinking with Erica and the others, and stumbled in a couple hours past curfew, reeking of stale cigarette smoke and locked in a passionate embrace with Isaac Lahey.

They paid no mind to Derek's disturbed slumber as they staggered through the room, shedding clothes between furious, biting kisses, and then fell onto the bed. They fucked loudly and violently, nothing in it except the need to get off, and when it was over Stiles threw the condom onto the floor between his and Derek's bed and told Isaac he could stay. Isaac fell asleep almost immediately, but Stiles stayed awake, listening to Derek breathe.

Derek, as soon as he'd realized what was going on, had shoved his head under his pillow and tried to block out the fact that he now knew more about his roommate's sex noises than he ever wanted to. He also knew more about his stamina.

 _Really?_ he thought furiously to himself as Isaac's moans reached their peak. _They couldn't find a bathroom or something?_

It was going to be a long night.

 

************

Isaac woke Stiles up the next morning by falling out of bed. Stiles responded by whipping the pillow out from under his head and launching it at the grumbling figure on the floor. "Get out," he groaned, rolling over and keeping his eyes closed while Isaac scrambled to get dressed. Only once the door had slammed behind him did Stiles sit up, blinking groggily and clutching his head. It took him a moment to realise that he was completely naked, Isaac having taken the covers with him to the floor, and that Derek was watching him.

Derek flushed and looked away as soon as he realized Stiles was looking at him. "Did you have to come back here?" he complained, not looking at Stiles as he got dressed for the day.

"I didn't know you'd be home," Stiles muttered as he pulled on a shirt. "Why, did we keep you up?"

"You woke me up," Derek retorted. "And why the hell wouldn't I be here?"

Stiles shrugged. "I thought you might've hooked up with Danny."

Derek rolled eyes. "Still not interested in guys. And your little show with Isaac turned me off of them for good, thanks." That was a lie, but Derek was firmly ignoring the way his dick had hardened, listening to the sounds Stiles and Isaac had made the night before.

Stiles smirked like he saw right through Derek, and stuffed his feet into his Converse. "I'm going to breakfast. Feel free to catch up with whatever you missed out on last night."

Derek didn't even want to think about what Stiles meant.

 

************

Stiles stayed out of Derek's way for the next few days, but when he got back to their room one afternoon to find Derek looking ready to start tearing his hair out, he just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "What's the matter?" he asked, throwing his book bag onto his own bed as he kicked off his shoes. "You've got a face like a wet weekend."

"Statistics," Derek hissed, glaring at his papers hard enough he was surprised they weren’t smoking. "Statistics is the matter."

Stiles hissed in through his teeth in sympathy. "Statistics is the worst," he offered, unable to quite believe he was speaking. "How long have you been at it?"

"I don't even want to look at a clock," Derek snapped, massaging his temples. "I started at two."

Stiles winced; it was quarter to five. He crossed to his bed and rummaged through his bag, finally producing a couple of papers which he thrust at Derek. "My notes," he announced. "Maybe this way you'll make it to dinner."

Derek startled when Stiles shoved the papers in his face; he eyed them and then their owner suspiciously before carefully taking them. "Thanks."

"There's no need to look at me like that, they're all right," Stiles snapped, equal parts impatient and embarrassed. "They're the ones I used for that same homework, so they'd better be."

"Sorry," Derek muttered; statistics was the only class he and Stiles didn't share, as each had a free block when the other was in class. "Seriously though, thanks."

Stiles nodded. "You're welcome," he said, feeling suddenly awkward. And then he left the room.

 

************

A few days passed before Derek had an opportunity to repay Stiles for lending his notes. He walked in on Stiles struggling with his tie-- whatever he'd done to it today appeared to have angered it; it seemed like it was attempting to strangle him.

Derek sighed-- much as he disliked his roommate, he didn't want him dead. "Quit pulling on it and let me see," he ordered, stepping into Stiles's personal space and batting the other's hands out of the way. "Holy God, what did you do to this thing?"

Stiles huffed and dropped his hands so that Derek could see. "Isaac bet that he could tie it so that I couldn't untie it."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Congratulations, you're an idiot," he drawled, but for once it wasn't malicious. "Let me see if I can untie it-- it's really close to your neck so I'd rather not have to cut it."

"Please don't cut it," Stiles absolutely did not whimper. "I'd rather not die."

Derek glared at Stiles. "I'm not that much of a dick," he said dryly, working at the knot-- if this was Scott, or almost literally anyone but Stiles, he'd use his teeth. "Hang on, I think I felt it move--" He grabbed a nearby pen, working the tip into one part of the knot to help loosen it.

Stiles was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were, and his breathing hitched - just as the knot around his throat gave. "Thanks," he breathed, a little shakily. "I think I got it from here."

Derek nodded, looking up-- and then freezing involuntarily. He and Stiles were incredibly close, close enough that if either of them moved, they'd be kissing.

The thought made Derek flush, but he was careful to lean back, not jerked away. "You're welcome," he offered, replacing the pen on the desk before retreating to the bathroom.

 

************

The first time Stiles acknowledged Isaac after their night together was later that day. Stiles had bolted from the room just as quickly as Derek had ducked into the bathroom, and had spent the next hour and a half wandering around campus decidedly not asking himself what had just happened. He came across Isaac smoking behind the science building and found himself pulling his own pack of cigarettes from his blazer pocket. "You got a light?"

Isaac handed over his lighter. "So, how badly did we traumatise your roommate?" he asked casually, taking a drag.

Stiles lit his cigarette and handed the lighter back before answering. "Pretty badly," he admitted. "I think he was more traumatised by the fact that it turned him on, though."

Isaac pocketed the lighter, raising an eyebrow. "Turned him on? Thought he wasn't gay-- heard he turned down Danny."

Stiles snorted. "He doesn't think he's gay. The jury's still out on that one."

Isaac hummed thoughtfully. "What about bisexual? Or else he's in Narnia."

"Not my business," Stiles dismissed with a casual flick of ash. "I don't really care, anyway."

Isaac hummed thoughtfully, studying Stiles intently. "I think you might. He is hot, isn't he?"

Isaac almost burned himself with his cigarette when Boyd nudged him with his foot. "Pass it over." Isaac obliged.

"He is hot," Stiles conceded, barely acknowledging Boyd and Erica's appearance. "But that doesn't mean I want to understand the inner workings of his mind."

Erica rolled her eyes. "You don't have to want that to want to bang him. Hell, if I thought he'd accept, I'd invite him to join me and Boyd. Isaac can attest to how fun that is."

Isaac grinned at the couple in question. "Hell yeah I can."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "We all can. But you're right, Derek would definitely run a mile." He shot Erica a sympathetic look.

Erica heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Well, I guess I'll just have to stick with my regular boys."

Stiles had been half hard since that encounter with Derek, and now he felt a spark of interest skitter through him. He flicked his cigarette to the floor and walked over to Erica, one arm going around her waist as he smirked at Boyd. "No complaints here," he said, and kissed her.

Boyd just rolled his eyes while Isaac laughed and crushed his cigarette out. "Or here," he agreed.

"Come on," Stiles sighed when he'd pulled away, moving the arm from around Erica's waist in order to take her hand. "Let's get out of here. And let's stop talking about _Derek_."

Erica smirked. "Someone sounds frustrated," she teased. "But yeah-- let's get out of here. It's almost time for dinner, anyway."

'Frustrated' didn't even cover it, but Stiles was hungry too. He let himself be dragged back into the school for dinner, and was pleased when the conversation didn't turn back to Derek for the rest of the night.

 

************

Over the next few weeks, Derek was surprised to find it seemed while outside of their dorm room, nothing changed, _inside_ , it appeared that a truce had been called. They still didn't speak much, but now there was a notable lack of tension between them when they were in the room together.Eventually, Derek decided maybe he could make an offer he wouldn't have considered making before. "Hey, I was gonna play some Mario Kart," he offered, holding up a controller. "You want in?"

Stiles snorted to hide his surprise. "Only if you're okay with getting your ass handed to you."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Excuse you," he retorted, "I'll have you know I'm the champion of Mario Kart. Get your skinny ass over here."

For some reason, the words came out almost friendly.

Stiles grabbed the controller without further hesitation. He wanted to tell Derek that he'd been a champion too, back when he still had someone to play against, but he didn't like thinking about that time too much and Derek had done nothing to earn it. He started the game instead, and set about reclaiming his title.

Their battle was long and furious, resulting in them cussing the other out and knocking shoulders, trying to distract each other enough to gain edge.

"Oh you _bastard_ ," Derek snarled, trying desperately to recover his position after Stiles lobbed a blue shell at him. "You absolute fucking bastard, I hope you hit a banana peel on Rainbow Road!"

"Fuck you," Stiles laughed. "Has no one ever taught you how to lose with grace?"

"I never lose," Derek announced, lobbing a green shell in Stiles's direction.

"Well, neither do I," Stiles snarled. "You fucker!"

Derek cackled as his avatar raced past Stiles's. "Victory will be mine!" he crowed, battling his way to the front.

"Don't bank on it, asshole!" Stiles wasn't giving up just yet.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Derek shouted, watching in disbelief as Stiles zipped past him at the last moment and claimed first place. "What the _fuck?_ You cheated, you had to have!" Never mind that there really was no way to cheat at Mario Kart; Derek just couldn't believe he'd lost.

Derek's devastation just made Stiles' victory sweeter, and he laughed gleefully. "Rematch!" he crowed once he had his breath again. "I'll let you try to win back some of your dignity."

"Oh you're on," Derek growled, expression hard and determined.

They played for the rest of the day, Stiles losing as many games as he won. Neither of them had learned to lose with grace by the time they called it a night, but they'd learned something else, something about each other. The thing that existed between them now wasn't friendship by any stretch of the imagination, but it was no longer the uneasy truce that had been there before. Stiles wasn't sure that he trusted it, but he was willing to accept it at face-value, if only within the safety of their room. He just hoped Derek would do the same.

 

************

Things continued to go well between Derek and Stiles, and it was freaking Derek out. Not because they were getting along-- no, he was fine with that. What he _wasn't_ fine with was the fact that Stiles had begun showing up in his dreams, taking on some... unexpected roles. It was unnerving, and the more Derek tried to deny the fact that he'd occasionally thought Stiles's moles were attractive, or that he had a nice ass, the more often those same features appeared in Derek's dreams. More than once, he woke with sticky boxers, and had been half-tempted to destroy the evidence.

It was messing with Derek's head, and that was the only reason-- or so he told himself-- that he kissed Paige during practice one day.

Derek had chosen an instrumental class as his elective, and he'd gone with the violin; surprisingly enough, he really enjoyed playing the instrument. It was soothing. When he'd sought refuge in the music room one day, he'd run into Paige, who had offered him advice on his fingering and the way he held the bow, and eventually they'd become friends, getting together to practice together in the music room every Thursday and Saturday afternoon. It was one such afternoon when, as Paige was leaning in to show Derek just how to place his fingers upon the strings for a note he'd been having trouble getting right, Derek leaned forward and closed the distance between them, pressing a clumsy kiss against Paige's mouth.

Paige adapted easily enough and kissed back, but only for a moment. "What was that about?" she asked quietly once they'd broken apart.

Derek wouldn't meet her eyes. "I, uh-- I was curious." _Shit_ , that sounded bad.

Paige smiled, her gaze flickering to Derek's lips and back. "Did that satisfy your curiosity?"

Derek's mouth quirked into a rueful grin. "Unfortunately, yes." It had-- kissing Paige had done absolutely nothing for him, except make him wonder what Stiles would kiss like.

Paige sat back with a sigh. "Yeah, I thought so."

Derek offered Paige an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Paige told him sincerely. "I like you, but I didn't think you liked me. But you like someone, don't you?"

Derek hesitated before shrugging. "I'm not even sure if I like them or my dick does," he said bluntly.

Paige blinked, and then laughed.

 

************

When Derek got back to the room a few hours later, Stiles immediately noticed that he was troubled. It said something about how far their little truce had come that he didn't even hesitate to ask why. "What's wrong?"

Derek shrugged. "It's nothing," he said, attempting to brush the whole thing off. "Just had a chat with Paige."

Stiles perked up in interest. "The girl who helps you with the violin?" Yeah, conversation definitely flowed a lot easier between them than it had when they'd first met. "What, did she tell you that you suck?"

Derek snorted. "No. We just had an... interesting conversation. That's all."

"Then why do you look like someone just shot your dog?" Stiles pressed.

Derek treated Stiles to an unimpressed look. "Because it was about my kissing skills," he fibbed.

Stiles couldn't have kept himself from snorting if he tried. "You _kissed_  her?!"

Derek glared at Stiles from his spot on the bed. "Yes," he bit out. "I kissed her, it sucked, we moved on."

Stiles whistled, sitting back in his desk chair. "I fucked a girl once," he said thoughtfully after a moment. "Just to see what it was like."

And _that_ was not an image Derek needed, thank you so much Stiles. Still, he couldn't help himself from asking, "Really? Who?"

Stiles smirked at the memory. "Lydia Martin."

Derek blinked. "Lydia? Really? I thought she's been with Jackson for forever."

"Not forever," Stiles said smugly. "And not consistently. It was during one of their many breaks."

"Huh." Derek was quiet for a moment before adding, "Well, uh, good... for you, I guess."

Stiles laughed. "Not really. It was awful."

Derek frowned. "Why?" he queried, unable to help himself.

"Because she doesn't have a dick," Stiles deadpanned. "I don't know, getting girls off while you're fucking them is just a whole lot of effort with minimal result. At least you _know_ when a guy comes."

Derek flushed. "Right, yeah, I guess," he muttered. "Makes sense."

Stiles just laughed and turned back to his homework.

 

************

That conversation sparked more dreams(and more ruined boxers), and Derek was getting a bit desperate as well as distracted-- had Stiles always mouthed at the end of his pen like that?

So he couldn't really be blamed when he asked Scott, seemingly out of the blue, at lunch a few days later, "Did you know Stiles before he came here?

It was one of the rare times that they were alone - Lydia had dragged Allison to a different table so that they could discuss outfits for a double date that weekend, and Jackson wasn't going to sit with them without Lydia - but that didn't mean Scott was any quicker to answer. He took his time putting his sandwich down and looking up at Derek, trying to decide what to say. In the end, he settled on the truth. "Yes."

"What was he like?" Derek asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Different," Scott answered carefully. "Very different. Why are you asking?"

Derek shrugged. "I just... We've been getting along better," he admitted. "But I don't know that he'd give me an honest answer if I asked him."

Scott sighed. "Nobody can reconcile the person Stiles was with the person he is now - probably not even Stiles himself," he conceded. "I loved him like a brother, Derek, but I've said it before and I'll say it again. He's bad news."

"What was he like before?" Derek pushed.

Scott's smile was sad and wistful. "He was ridiculous," he told Derek. "A hyperactive little bastard who was always underfoot and getting into trouble. But he was loyal. He wouldn't hear a bad word about his parents or me, and he would have done anything just to see us smile. Especially his mom."

Something about the way Scott said that last sentence tipped Derek off. "His mom?"

Scott bit his lip. "She died a few years ago," he said quietly.

"Oh." Yeah, Derek could see how that could fuck a kid up. "He came here almost immediately after, didn't he?"

Scott wasn't sure how far he should let this go, but again, he couldn't lie. "Yeah."

Derek nodded slowly, but the same feeling that was afflicting Scott also touched him, and he didn't press further-- he felt like he should get the rest of the story from Stiles himself; what Scott had told him would have to suffice for now.

 

************

But Derek never got the chance to ask. Stiles didn't return to their room that night, and only stumbled in five minutes before classes began to grab some clean clothes and apply a fresh layer of eyeliner. He barely spoke to Derek, grunting a 'good morning' and something about stupid hangovers, before he was dashing out of the door with his Converse untied and yesterday's books still in his bag.

He was there that afternoon though, when Derek went to change before dinner. He was clearly still feeling the effects of the night before, but more than that, he looked upset. "Scott came looking for you," were the words he greeted Derek with. They sounded hollow. "Asked if you wanted to go to the movies with them. They're leaving in an hour."

"Really?" Derek asked, stripping out of his shirt. "You wanna come?"

Stiles snorted derisively and looked away. "No thanks."

Derek hesitated. "Okay. If you change your mind..."

"Yeah, whatever," Stiles muttered. "How did you do on Harris' test?"

Derek shrugged. "Got a C; guess I'll have to study a bit more next time."

Stiles huffed. "Or ask your dad to deepen his pockets."

Derek looked at Stiles in confusion. "What do you mean? They're paying for me to stay here, and that's it."

"Yeah, okay," Stiles dismissed. "We've had this conversation. You're all the same."

Suddenly it hit Derek just what Stiles meant by that. "What, you think I'm going to _buy_ my grades? What the hell, Stiles?"

"Why are you so surprised?" Stiles asked. "Everyone else does. Are you telling me you don't?"

"No, I don't," Derek said sharply, offended.

Stiles looked shocked. "But-- You said..."

"What?" Derek asked hotly, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at Stiles. "What did I say?"

Stiles found his tongue again in the face of Derek's anger. "That you _did_!" he insisted. "I said this place was a shithole unless your daddy paid for your grades and you started talking about how rich your father is!"

"I said we were well-off-- I'm here on a scholarship!" Derek retorted. "My parents work all the time to take care of my siblings. Even if they were _rich_ , I would never ask for them to pay for my grades-- that's a shit thing to do, and doesn't help at all."

"That's what I'm saying!" Stiles cried. "But it sounded like--" It didn't matter what it had sounded like, he realised, because he'd been wrong. He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Derek nodded once, sharply. "It's fine," he muttered, finally turning to dig through his dresser to get a shirt. He looked back at Stiles after a moment. "Offer still stands, though-- if you want to come with us, you can."

Stiles sighed. "I appreciate it, but I couldn't even if I did want to."

"Why not?" Derek asked, voice momentarily muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head.

Once again, Stiles looked away. "Because I can't afford it," he snapped, harsher than he'd intended. "Maybe you're not paying for your grades, but you can still pay for everything else. I can't."

Derek looked at Stiles, startled. After a moment, he found his voice. "I could spot you the money," he offered. "You could pay me back by not causing a disruption in class for a day or something."

Stiles laughed and it was a sharp, cruel sound. "I don't need your money or your pity. Enjoy the movie." He barely kept himself from slamming the door as he left the room.

 

************

After that, it was almost as if Derek had hit a reset button-- Stiles went back to being a jerk, even in their dorm room(although, for whatever reason, he still kept the goofing off to a minimum in English), and he spent more nights out of the dorm than he did inside of it. The few nights Stiles _did_ spend in their room, he was accompanied by Isaac, and the enthusiasm with which they went about their activities kept Derek up for most of the night, even with a pair of earplugs he'd bought on impulse while out with his friends.

When he'd bought them, Jackson had raised an eyebrow and made some comment about Stiles's adventures; he said that there was a reason Boyd and Erica hung out with him. That got Derek thinking, and the next time he caught Stiles in their dorm room alone, he blurted, "Do you sleep with them?"

Stiles met Derek's eyes for the first time all week. "With who?"

"Boyd and Erica," Derek clarified.

Stiles blinked. "Sometimes," he answered. "Why?"

Derek couldn't help the way he glanced away from Stiles's face and flushed before meeting his gaze. "Don't bring them back here like you do Isaac. It's bad enough hearing you with him."

"Can't," Stiles said bluntly. "Bed's not big enough."

A memory surfaced, and Derek frowned. "I thought you said you don't like fucking women," he accused.

Stiles actually laughed. "Oh, I don't fuck Erica. She fucks me."

"She fuc--" Derek shook his head. "Whatever-- you need to quit bringing Isaac here, too. _You_ may not give a shit about anything but your dick, but _I_ do. It's hard enough to concentrate with you fucking around in class, I don't need to listen to you fuck around at night, too."

Stiles smirked. "Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked, gaze flickering up and down Derek's body. "Do I?"

"Yeah, it makes me uncomfortable," Derek snapped, feeling uncomfortable at that moment with the way Stiles was looking at him(never mind that when Stiles looked at him in that way in his dreams, he felt very, _very_ comfortable.)

"I bet it does," Stiles teased. "You know, we could take a tumble if you wanted."

Derek froze. "Wh-What?" he spluttered. "What the hell are you on about?"

"You think I haven't noticed?" Stiles asked. "I know you want a piece."

Derek crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about," he denied.

Stiles sighed. "You're not still pretending to be straight, are you?"

"I am," Derek insisted, though he could feel his heart skip over the lie.

Stiles rolled his eyes. " _Please_. My gaydar never lies."

"Your... gaydar-- who the fuck even uses that word anymore?" Derek demanded. "What the hell?"

"That's not the point," Stiles insisted. "The point is that I'm right!"

"How the hell would you know if you're right?" Derek asked incredulously. "It's my sexuality, not yours!"

"And you're _lying_ to yourself!" Stiles cried. "I just don't understand why!"

"I am not lying to myself, Jesus," Derek said, exasperated. "Why the fuck is this so important to you?"

"Because I want you!" Stiles shouted, and shit, he hadn't meant to say that.

Derek froze-- he wasn't even sure if he was breathing. "You-- _what_?"

"I want you," Stiles repeated, stalking closer to Derek. "And I know you want me, too."

Derek backed up until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed; his arms windmilled for a moment before he caught his balance again. "I-- You're crazy. I don't want you." And now Derek was lying through his teeth, but he was not about to admit that Stiles was right.

"Really?" Stiles asked. He was right up in Derek's space now, his hands gentle as he rested them on Derek's chest. "Then push me away." And he brought their mouths together.

Derek was frozen-- he wanted to push Stiles away, but the bigger part of him, the part that had been tortured by dreams of Stiles's hands and mouth on him for weeks now, urged him to kiss Stiles back. In the end, he did-- and it was _nothing_ like the kiss with Paige.

 

************

Afterwards, Stiles reflected that sex with Derek was at the same time similar and very different to sex with Isaac. It had been urgent to the point of desperate, but Derek ignited a need in Stiles that went beyond the desire to get off that often had him pounding Isaac into the mattress; a need not only to claim but to be claimed in return. They didn't have to decide who was topping because they didn't last that long, something else that was new, but Stiles had let Derek take control and had loved every second of it. Even the mindblowing sex he had with Boyd and Erica didn't compare.

Which was why, when their chests had finished heaving and their heads were no longer spinning, Stiles curled into Derek with a deep, contented sigh. "We're _so_ doing that again."

Derek, who was currently pinching his thigh to make sure he wasn't dreaming, startled, looking down to where Stiles had his head pillowed against Derek's shoulder. "Do what now?"

"The sex," Stiles supplied patiently. "Although we should try to last longer next time. I really want you to fuck me."

Derek scrambled to sit up, dislodging Stiles in the process. "Wait, you're serious?" he demanded, voice slightly strangled.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Stiles asked, the epitome of calm. "Do not tell me that didn't blow your fucking mind."

Derek sputtered wordlessly for a moment before managing to get out "I'm not gay!"

Stiles didn't even blink. "I've got spunk on my stomach that tells me you're at least bi."

Derek spluttered a bit more before finally settling on studying Stiles intently. "You just going to jump me again if I say no?"

Stiles' expression darkened. "Don't even joke about that," he warned. "I didn't force you."

Derek had the grace to look chagrined. "Right, sorry."

Stiles sighed and shuffled forward on the bed so that when he reached out he could touch Derek's hand. "If the answer's no, I'll leave you alone," he murmured. "Just be honest with yourself."

Derek's gaze fixed on Stiles's hand on his; he was quiet for several moments before he took a deep breath and said, "I'd like to do it again."

Stiles smiled. "That's progress."

Derek snorted. "Right." He glanced down and then grimaced. "We're disgusting."

"We should shower," Stiles agreed. "And change the sheets." _And talk_ , part of him wanted to add, but he wasn't sure either of them were ready for that.

Derek made a face. "If course we'd do this on my bed," he muttered to himself. "Next time it's yours."

Stiles beamed. "Deal."

 

************

After that, Derek didn't have to dream about being with Stiles anymore; he got the real deal every night, and occasionally in the middle of the day, too, if they had time. He'd never met someone so insatiable as Stiles, but he guessed he was the same way, considering he had no trouble keeping up with the other teenager.

He knew he was acting odd; even Scott seemed to have picked up on it, if the way that he was staring at Derek almost constantly now was any indication.

"Is that a hickey?" Scott blurted one afternoon, his gaze trained on a bruise at the base of Derek's throat.

Derek flushed. "No," he lied.

"It is!" Scott insisted. "Who gave you that?!"

Derek glared at Scott. "Does it matter?" he snapped.

Scott's face fell. "It was Stiles, wasn't it?"

Derek couldn't help it; he stared at Scott in shock. "What?"

"It was Stiles, _wasn't_ it?"

"No!" Derek denied, but the burning in his cheeks told the truth. "Why would I-- that's ridiculous."

Scott sighed. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I," Derek muttered under his breath.

 

************

Scott knew that he and Stiles shared a free block, and he knew that Stiles, more often than not, was out by the groundskeeper's shed smoking during that block. So Scott sought him out; as he approached, Scott was struck yet again by the differences between the person Stiles was now and the person he had been before everything happened. "Stiles!"

Stiles flinched and fumbled the cigarette, but didn't drop it. He looked more than a little rattled when he turned to face Scott. "What do you want?"

"You screwing around with Derek?" Scott asked, not even bothering to beat around the bush; it hurt, seeing the kid who'd been his brother in all but blood like this, after they'd drifted apart. Scott wasn't a masochist.

Stiles didn't see the point in playing his cards close to his chest either, but even so, his words came out a lot sharper than they were meant to. "Yes. And it's your business why?"

"Because Derek's my friend," Scott shot back. "And you used to be, too. Don't mess it up, and don't lead him on."

Stiles looked vaguely disgusted. "You're not his mother, or mine," he said nastily. "It's nothing to do with you who he fucks."

"Yeah, but you break his heart, and I'll be the one picking up the pieces," Scott shot back. "So that makes it my business."

That gave Stiles pause. "What makes you think I'm going to break his heart?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Look at you, Stiles-- maybe before-- before you came here, you'd have given this a serious effort, but are you really trying to tell me that this is more than physical for you?"

"That's not what I meant," Stiles snapped, trying his hardest to ignore the sting of Scott's words. "Why are you so sure it's more than physical for him?"

"Have you _met_ Derek? Even if it starts off physical, it's gonna get deeper than that. He was already becoming friends with you, ever since he moved here."

Scott was right, Stiles knew, but that didn't mean he liked it. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said coldly. "You don't know me anymore, Scotty."

Scott sighed. "I know, Stiles-- and it hurts. But just-- don't hurt Derek. Or yourself."

Stiles considered Scott for a moment, and as he did so his expression cleared. Beneath the eyeliner and the scowl was the boy Scott had once known, his eyes warm and open and the barest twitch visible at the corners of his lips, as though they didn't know whether to curve up or pull down. "That's not my intention," he said softly, sincerely, and then he was stubbing out his cigarette and walking away. He needed to find Derek.

 

************

Stiles found Derek in their dorm room; Derek glanced up from the Pre-Calculus homework, and frowned when he caught sight of Stiles's face. "You okay?"

”Not really." Stiles sat down heavily on Derek's bed and put his face in his hands. "I just saw Scott," he mumbled.

Derek followed his gut, getting up from his desk and moving to sit next to Stiles. "Oh. What happened?"

Stiles didn't sit up. "He came to yell at me and tell me not to break your heart."

"Scott yelled at you?" Derek asked, surprised. And what was that line about breaking Derek's heart? His heart wasn't on the line…

"No," Stiles admitted, lifting his head. "Yelling isn't really Scott's style. He's better at crippling disappointment."

"He guilt-tripped you," Derek surmised.

"I don't know if I'd use those exact words," Stiles mused. He rested his head on Derek's arm and closed his eyes, sighing. "He's worried about you, is all. Worried I'm a bad influence."

Derek snorted. "Your picture would be under the dictionary definition," he said with a slight smile. "But that's just how you look. You don't act like a bad influence. Just... Well, like you don't care what the world thinks of you."

"I don't," Stiles agreed quietly. "But Scott's different." It kind of killed him to know that Scott thought badly of him, even though it had been a conscious effort on Stiles' part to get them to this point. The idea of Derek thinking the same was almost as bad.

"How?" Derek asked quietly, daring to slip an arm around Stiles's shoulders.

Stiles made a pleased sound and let his hand fall against Derek's stomach, fingers circling lightly. "He's just so _good_. I don't think I'll ever get used to how much he hates me now," he confessed.

Derek frowned. "I don't think he hates you," he mused. "I think he misses you more than he could ever hate you. I've seen him looking at you during lunch."

"He misses someone that doesn't exist anymore," Stiles asserted, his words strong and sure. "And he knows that. If he didn't, he wouldn't be warning me away from you." _The person I was before would be able to love you_.

Derek sighed, squeezing Stiles's shoulders briefly in a one-armed hug. "I think you give yourself too little credit. And Scott's overestimating what this is."

"Is he?" Stiles asked, lifting his head to look Derek in the eye. He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Derek shrugged. "We're just fucking around, right? Not like we go skipping down the halls holding hands."

Stiles sighed and settled back down against Derek's chest. "Right," he murmured. "Scott has nothing to worry about."

Derek nodded. "Right," he agreed.

 

************

Following that conversation, Stiles began to spiral out of control. He was more rude in class than ever before, with English being the only exception, until an abject refusal to turn up in anything other than his pyjamas landed him in isolation for the next two weeks. He avoided Scott at all costs, and barely spoke to Derek outside of their room. When they were in their room, however, Stiles wouldn't leave Derek alone. They fucked like bunnies on speed, with Stiles proving almost insatiable.

And then it stopped. Stiles didn't return to the room for a whole weekend, his only explanation when he wandered in after classes on Monday that he'd needed to let off some steam. Derek didn't get an idea of just how he'd done that until the next day, when he happened across Stiles and Isaac kissing behind the science building.

The sight hit Derek like a freight train, suddenly driving home just how _worried_ Derek had been the past few weeks, how Stiles had refused to talk to him beyond "harder" and "faster", and Derek had been worried about him when he'd been out fucking other people?

"What. The. _Hell,_ " Derek growled, grabbing Stiles by the shoulder and yanking him unceremoniously off of Isaac, who took one look at the murderous expression on Derek's face and fled. "What the fuck was that?"

"What the fuck did it look like?" Stiles demanded angrily. "Let _go_ of me!"

Derek removed his hand, but continued glaring. "Is that where you were this weekend, then? With Isaac?" he demanded, letting his anger cover the hurt that was beginning to make itself known.

"Yes!" Stiles snapped. "So what?"

"So what? So what the _hell_?" Derek asked, furious and hurt. "Have you been fucking him the whole time you've been fucking me?"

Stiles didn't even hesitate. "Yeah, I have," he lied. "And you're the one who told me we were just screwing around, that it didn't mean anything, so don't start acting the jealous girlfriend now. You knew what this was!”

Derek sighed, nodding. "Yeah, I did," he said, his tone neutral. "I never said it didn't mean anything, though. See you later." With that, Derek turned and walked off, heading for the library-- he needed someplace quiet to think.

Even though he knew he should, Stiles couldn't bring himself to follow. Instead he watched Derek's retreating form and wondered why he felt so wretched.

 

************

Derek managed to avoid Stiles for that day and the next-- he didn't sleep in their dorm, unwilling to face Stiles; instead, he spent the night in Lydia and Allison's dorm. He snuck in only to grab a clean change of clothes and his toothbrush before retreating again. Lydia and Allison's kindness only went so far, though, and they insisted he spend the next night in his own bed.

Derek wasn't particularly looking forward to it, but he did-- He stayed in the library as long as he dared before finally heading back, hoping that Stiles wouldn't be in yet. Unfortunately, his luck appeared to have run out; Derek bit his lower lip briefly before walking in and beginning to get dressed for bed without looking at the other teenager. The two days apart hadn't done much to numb the hurt Derek still felt, but after talking with Lydia(who'd also sworn Allison to secrecy on the matter), Derek at least felt slightly more able to handle it. He hoped.

Stiles had been pretty miserable for the past two days, but he was refusing to consider why. Just like he was refusing to accept that their fight the other day was going to change anything; Stiles dealt with most of his problems by ignoring them. He stepped up behind Derek, arms going around his waist, and kissed the side of his neck. "Hey," he murmured. "I missed you."

Derek twisted out of Stiles's hold, turning to study him for a moment. "Of course you did," he murmured, turning back to his dresser; he'd need to do laundry soon. "Isaac couldn't keep you company?"

Stiles sighed. "Does it matter?" he asked.

Derek didn't glance at Stiles. "According to you, it doesn't," he answered.

"Don't blame this on me!" Stiles cried, embarrassed and indignant. "You _never_ said you wanted to be exclusive!"

Derek turned to Stiles, eyebrow raised. "Normally, when two people start fucking around, common sense says that they fuck around with each other," he retorted. "Not any living thing. Christ, Stiles, I'm not even all that pissed that you slept with him-- what I'm more pissed about is you disappearing for two days without telling me _shit._ For God's sake, I thought we'd at least gotten to that point."

"You're not my boyfriend," Stiles snapped. "I don't have to answer to you. And you knew I was fucking around with Isaac - _and_ Erica and Boyd - before we started anything! You really think you're so special that I'd just drop everything for you?" It was a mean thing to say, but Stiles couldn't take the words back once they were spoken, no matter how much he might want to.

Derek glared at Stiles. "I know full well we're not dating," he hissed. "But I _thought_ we were friends."

That brought Stiles up short. "We are," he said quietly. "But you know who I am, Derek. I don't do the commitment thing. If that's what you wanted, you should have said so."

"I don't care about the commitment thing," Derek fibbed. "But I'd have liked to know you were planning on disappearing for a while. If you don't want me, then tell me. I don't like worrying about my friends."

Stiles winced. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I didn't mean to make you worry. Although I'd like to point out that you just did the same to me."

Derek sighed. "Right. Sorry about that."

"It's okay." Stiles shrugged. "I probably deserved a taste of my own medicine. Are we even now?"

Derek studied Stiles for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, sure."

Stiles took a step closer. "Can I kiss you?"

Derek hesitated before nodding, just once.

Stiles didn't hesitate to slide his fingers into Derek's hair and bring their mouths together. The kiss was slower and more sensual than it was supposed to be, but it felt natural, far more natural than the furious, biting kisses they'd shared before. It caught Stiles off guard, and when they broke apart he found himself speaking without consciously deciding to. "Only you from now on," he breathed. "If that's still what you want."

Derek paused, searching Stiles's expression. "I'd like that," he admitted quietly. Derek had found that he didn't much care for sharing, even without the emotions Stiles had somehow managed to evoke in him. Even if this never became more than physical, Derek still appreciated the offer.

 

************

Things were pretty good after that. Stiles and Derek weren't dating by any means, but they'd come to a mutual understanding that both were happy with. At least, that was what Stiles kept telling himself. They still didn't speak much when they weren't within the safety of their own room, which meant that when Derek made plans to go out with Scott and the others, Stiles wasn't included. Stiles also told himself that he didn't care, but by the time Derek got back one night after a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon with the gang, Stiles was a little drunk and more than a little emotional.

"Shit," he hissed when Derek walked in, trying to simultaneously compose himself and shove the bottle of Captain Morgan's under the covers. He succeeded in neither venture. "You didn't see anything."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You okay?" he asked, concerned-- Stiles was usually really good about keeping his illicit activities out of the dorm room and where they wouldn't be noticed.

"I'm great," Stiles lied. "Everything's wonderful here. Why wouldn't it be?"

Derek sat down on Stiles's bed, picking up the bottle of rum. "Usually you don't drink in the dorm," he pointed out. "What's wrong?"

Stiles looked away. "It's stupid."

Derek dropped the bottle behind him, reaching to take Stiles's hand in his. "You can tell me," he said gently. "That's what friends are for."

Stiles felt all kinds of pathetic, and was sure that he looked it when he met Derek's gaze. "I miss Scott," he confessed miserably.

Derek followed his gut, pulling Stiles in for a hug. "I know he misses you, too," he murmured, feeling slightly helpless.

"He doesn't, though." Stiles sniffled embarrassingly and hid his face against Derek's throat. "Have you met me? He has Allison now, and Danny and Lydia and _you_. He doesn't want _me_."

"He had you first," Derek pointed out. "The way he talks about the shit you two got up to... Trust me, Stiles-- he misses you a lot."

"I told you the last time we talked about this," Stiles argued. "The person he misses doesn't exist anymore."

Derek sighed, rubbing Stiles's back absently. "Maybe you should give him a chance to get to know you now," he suggested carefully. "Let him see that for himself, if you're really so convinced that you are absolutely nothing like you were before."

"Trust me, he knows," Stiles huffed. "That's why we don't talk anymore. He didn't like the changes."

Derek was quiet for a moment. "Why did you change?" he asked softly.

Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath. He'd never talked about this with anyone; aside from telling him they didn't like the person he was becoming, Scott and his dad had pretty much kept their distance the past few years. "Because I didn't know what else to do," he admitted. "My mom was dead and I felt like I was falling apart. The only way to keep from doing that was to... stop. Stop caring, stop trying... stop existing."

Derek didn't stop rubbing Stiles's back. "I'm sorry," he murmured, ignoring the way that his heart clenched in his chest. "That sounds awful."

"It didn't even stop it from hurting," Stiles continued on a bitter laugh. "It just meant I had to go through it alone."

Derek pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles's temple. "Well, you've got me now, okay? And maybe you should think about talking to Scott some more." Derek resolved to do the same.

Stiles wanted to insist that he didn't need Derek's sympathy, that that wasn't why he'd told him, but he was too tired. Derek's arms around him were a warm and comforting weight, and it was all too easy to sink into his hold. "Sleep with me?" he asked on a sigh. "Just sleep."

Derek nodded, shifting them so that they could lay down comfortably on the small bed. "I'll stay here."

"Thank you," Stiles whispered, letting his eyes slip shut. He was asleep within moments.

 

************

A couple of days later gave Derek the chance he needed to corner Scott. "Hey, Scott, old buddy old pal," he said with false joviality, wrapping an arm around Scott's shoulders and dragging him into a nearby empty classroom; as soon as the door was shut, he dropped the act. "Dude, Stiles misses the hell out of you."

Scott was momentarily caught off guard, but he recovered his composure quickly. "Yeah right," he said, almost nastily. "And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"Well, don't expect me to bow to you, _your Majesty_ ," Derek shot back. "Seriously, what the hell? From what he told me, you weren't there for him when he needed you."

Scott's uneven jaw dropped. "I was there for him," he snapped. "He just pushed me away."

"So? You were his best friend, idiot. You're supposed to push back."

"He didn't give me a chance!" Scott didn't look angry anymore; he looked anguished. "He just switched straight to self-destruct mode, and I _tried_ , but I couldn't watch him do that to himself! I don't think he's seriously spoken to his dad in over a year, Derek. We can't help him if he doesn't want to be helped."

"And if he wants to be helped?" Derek pushed, taking a step closer to Scott.

Scott gaped at him. "Then I'd help him," he said, no hesitation beyond the shock of Derek's words. "God, I'd do anything I could. He's my brother."

"I don't know if he's there, but-- he's not the same as he was when I arrived here, Scott," Derek explained. "He's just-- he's different, in a good way, I think."

Scott tried to squash the hope that welled within him in favour of searching Derek's face. "This thing between you, it's not just physical for you, is it?" he asked gently.

Derek debated denying it, but decided against that. "No," he admitted. "I don't know what it is for Stiles, but it's more than that for me. But that doesn't change the fact that he needs you; he needs his best friend. Just-- listen to him if he comes to you, okay?"

"I will," Scott promised, a soft smile curving his lips. "Thank you."

Derek nodded. "Thanks."

 

************

Stiles made his move a week later. He approached Derek's table halfway through lunch, looking rather like he wanted to be sick. Derek caught his eye and he nodded once before turning to Scott. "Can I talk to you?"

Scott looked up in surprise, but he smiled nonetheless. "Sure, man-- I know an empty classroom if you wanna go there?"

"Okay," Stiles agreed gratefully. He looked to Derek again, some unidentifiable warmth blossoming in his chest at the encouragement he saw there, and stepped back to let Scott lead the way.

Scott led them into the same classroom Derek had dragged him into a week earlier. "What's up?" he asked curiously, keeping Derek's words in mind.

It took Stiles a long moment to get his words past the lump in his throat, and when they emerged they sounded as choked as he felt. "I'm sorry. For everything."

Scott stepped forward, his arms slightly open. "I am, too," he said honestly. "I should've stuck around."

"I shouldn't have pushed you away," Stiles returned, and there must have been a cat in the room or something, because his eyes were watering like crazy. "I was scared."

Deciding that Stiles wasn't going to be the one to make this first move, Scott stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Stiles. "Yeah, I know," he muttered, his own throat clogging. "We were both stupid, yeah?"

"The stupidest," Stiles agreed, hugging Scott back fiercely.

They stayed like that for several long moments before Scott pulled back slightly. "You doing better now?"

Stiles nodded. "I'm trying. Derek's helping."

Scott smiled at that. "Yeah, I think he is. You really like him, huh?"

Stiles flushed. "I think so?" he hedged. "I don't think I'm really in a position to know what I feel right now."

Scott nodded in understanding. "Fair enough." He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "What about your dad?"

Stiles didn't even try to hide his flinch. "What about him?"

Scott gave Stiles an apologetic look. "Just, are you planning to talk to him?"

"I want to," Stiles confided. "But I'm not so sure he does."

"He's your dad," Scott said gently. "He loves you."

"Does he?" Stiles asked, and those were definitely tears in his eyes now. "Mom's barely in the ground and he's telling me that I have to go away, that he's _sending_ me away like he doesn't _want_ me anymore - what part of that tells you he loves me?"

Scott shook his head. "I wasn't there," he reminded Stiles. "So I don't know exactly what he said, but, Stiles-- I can't believe your dad would stop loving you just because your mom died."

Stiles looked away. "Maybe not because of that, but I kind of lost my shit right after coming here, remember?" He'd also started avoiding his father. He hadn't been home over Christmas break once since he'd been sent to boarding school, and when he went home over the summer it was for the shortest time possible and he split his time between being locked in his bedroom and staying over at Isaac's. The sheriff would probably have a heart attack if Stiles tried to speak to him now.

"He's your dad, Stiles," Scott repeated. He hesitated, but then added, "Mom's been telling me that he seems depressed. He's not drinking, not anymore, but he's definitely not himself. She thinks he misses you, and is worried about you."

That... was actually kind of nice to hear. When Stiles kept getting into trouble at the start of his first year there, the school had been ringing home with complaints two or three times a week. After every call, the sheriff would hang up to contact Stiles, but Stiles had blown him off again and again until eventually the calls stopped coming. It hadn't helped to know that even now the school was still telling the sheriff everything; it just added to Stiles' certainty that he'd been abandoned. But maybe he was wrong. "I need to see him," he said quietly.

"Summer vacation starts in two weeks," Scott pointed out. "You can talk to him then."

Stiles sighed. It wasn't much time to prepare, but he knew he needed to do this. "I will," he promised.

Scott smiled, and clapped Stiles on the shoulder. "Good. Come spend some time with me this summer, okay? Don't spend it all in your room or with Isaac."

Stiles blushed. He hadn't realised how much attention Scott still paid to him. "I don't think Isaac and I are on the best terms right now," he said with a wry smile. "But yeah. That'd be nice."

 

************

The two weeks passed by in a blur of tests and studying, and when the last day of school found Derek packing his bags, he found himself asking Stiles, "So... What're your plans for the summer?"

Stiles had been waiting for this, and he knew what he had to say. Still, it couldn't hurt to stall a little. "Umm, not a lot. Just hanging out with Scott and hopefully my dad. What about you?"

"Family stuff," Derek said with a shrug. "Dad apparently wants to take us on a vacation at some point in the summer, but he probably won't go through with it like usual."

Stiles chuckled. "Family vacations never really existed for us either," he sympathised. "Dad was always too busy with work."

Derek smiled at Stiles, and took a deep breath before saying tentatively, "I'd like to visit you at some point."

And there it was. Stiles winced. "I don't think we should see each other over the summer."

Derek looked at Stiles in surprise. "What?"

"We've been in each other's pockets all year," Stiles explained. "I just think it would be for the best. You know?"

"Right, yeah," Derek said, nodding and pretending that that was perfectly fine. "Makes sense."

Something in Derek's face made Stiles ask, "Does it?"

Derek sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "No," he admitted. "It doesn't."

"It's not that I don't want to see you," Stiles offered carefully. "I just think I need some time on my own. To talk to my dad and fix things properly with Scott, see if I can get my head on straight."

Derek nodded slowly; he could understand that. "All right," he said, offering Stiles a smile. "So I guess this is it, then?"

Stiles hesitated. "If you want it to be?" he hedged. "I-- I'm not going to ask you to wait for me. But I'm not planning on seeing anyone else over the summer."

Derek tried to squish the little blossom of hopeful warmth in his chest. "I'm not, either," he confided.

Stiles' smile was one of pleasant surprise. "Then I guess I'll see you next year."

 

************

Just like he had been every year, Sheriff Stilinski was working on the last day of school. Stiles was incredibly grateful to Scott and Mrs McCall for offering to give him a ride, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed. It was a good three hour drive back to Beacon Hills, which for the most part was spent laughing with Scott, but all of the laughter faded when they pulled up outside Stiles' house and realised it was empty.

"You can come back to our place for a while," Melissa offered uncertainly. "I could make us some dinner?"

Stiles smiled. "Thanks, Mrs McCall, but I think I'll pass. I should be here when he gets home."

"Some other time though, right?" Scott asked quickly, and Stiles nodded. Scott helped him to haul his bags up to the front door and then went back to the car, leaving Stiles to let himself in and reacquaint himself with his childhood home.

It'd been a long day at work, and the sheriff wasn't looking forward to a microwave dinner, the same meal he always had after pulling a double shift-- except, when he got home, dinner was waiting for him. The elder Stilinski stopped and stared, wondering if Melissa had let herself in and made him dinner. Footsteps alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone, and he almost reached for his gun before remembering that Stiles was supposed to come home today.

"Hey, kid," the sheriff offered with a forced smile when Stiles appeared. "You make dinner?"

Stiles nodded, his answering smile weak but genuine. "I went through the fridge when I got home," he said by way of explanation. "Somehow I doubt your cholesterol is low enough to excuse microwaveable meals."

The sheriff hesitated; it'd been a long time since Stiles had worried about his cholesterol. "Something you need to tell me, son?"

Stiles shrugged. "I just think it's about time we had a proper talk. Don't you?"

The sheriff studied his son for a moment-- Stiles had become almost unrecognizable after Claudia had died, acting out and refusing to talk, and when the sheriff found out that Stiles had been offered a scholarship to a private boarding school, he'd accepted, thinking maybe that Stiles just needed some space, to get away from Beacon Hills. Judging by the thrice-weekly phone calls he still got most months, that hadn't worked.

"Sure," he agreed after a moment. "What about?"

Stiles sat down at the table and gestured for his dad to do the same. Dinner was just a salad, so it could wait if the sheriff wanted to do this now. "About how shit things have been since mom died," he said bluntly.

The sheriff was glad he was sitting, otherwise Stiles's words would have knocked him on his ass. "So now you want to talk about that?" he asked, incredulous. "Why?"

"A lot changed this year," Stiles answered. "Someone made me realise how much I don't want to be a total asshole anymore."

Part of the sheriff wanted to question his son more about this person-- and he had noticed the lack of pronouns-- but the bigger part of him made him sit there expectantly. "Oh?"

Stiles sighed. "I'm sorry for everything I've been putting you through," he said, looking down at the table. "All the bad behaviour at school, the drinking and the smoking and the cutting classes, hardly ever coming home and avoiding you when I do. I just-- I don't know how to talk to you, Dad. I don't even know if you want me to."

"Of course I want you to," the sheriff protested. "You're my son."

"Don't say that like it should be obvious," Stiles pleaded. "You haven't exactly been acting like my father lately."

"I tried," the sheriff explained. "After-- after your mother-- I tried. But nothing seemed to work, you just kept pushing me away and eventually I figured maybe if I gave you space you'd come to me when you were ready."

Stiles just gaped at him for a long moment, incredulous. "You--" he spluttered finally. "Are you _serious_?!"

"Yes?" the sheriff said, but it was uncertain.

"Mom died!" Stiles didn't even realise he was shouting. "I was grieving! And you _sent me away_!"

"I thought it'd be good for you!" The sheriff shouted back. "What the hell else was i supposed to do? Your mom was always the one to make things better, and I tried, but I couldn't! You wouldn't listen to me, you barely spoke to me, and you were acting out so badly that I had no clue what else to do with you; I thought if you got some space..."

"Well you thought wrong, Dad! All you did was make me feel like you'd abandoned me!"

That brought the sheriff up short. "I-- I didn't mean to," he said, feeling horrified at himself. "I'm so sorry, Stiles."

Stiles deflated with a sigh. "I'm sorry, too."

The sheriff hesitated, but then offered, "So, are you-- what are your plans for this summer?"

Stiles managed a shaky smile. "I'm gonna spend some time with Scott. And, if it's okay, with you?"

The sheriff smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."

 

************

Derek's summer had been uneventful-- no surprise, his dad backed out on the vacation thing-- and he'd been looking forward to seeing Stiles. Except... Stiles didn't make the move-in date, although Scott told Derek that Stiles had said he was coming back.

The first day of classes held no sign of stiles, and Derek was too busy worrying over that fact to notice the new kid sitting in all of Stiles's regular spots. It wasn't until that night after dinner when Derek returned to his room to find the new kid unpacking that he finally snapped out of the funk he'd been in. "Hey," he snapped, letting the door slam behind him. "What're you doing here? That bed's taken."

The new kid spun around, soft ungelled hair falling behind thick-framed glasses and into his eyes, and flushed deeply. "It is?" he asked weakly. "Umm, okay. I'm sorry, I'll just grab my stuff and..."

Derek froze, his mouth hanging open. It took several tries before he could get out a strangled " _Stiles_?"

Stiles blinked and clumsily shoved his hair back from his face. "What?"

Derek blinked several times, stupefied. "What-- I guess your summer went good, then," he finally said.

"I-- Um." Stiles looked down at himself, as if he'd only just noticed how much he'd changed. The hair and glasses aside, the eyeliner was gone and in place of battered Converse and pyjamas he now wore smart black shoes and the school's uniform. Even his shirt was tucked in, his tie done up in a neat knot at the base of his throat. It made the bobbing of his Adam's apple even more obvious when he swallowed hard. "I guess?"

Derek hesitantly stepped forward. "You look good," he said quietly, his hand moving almost without his permission to run through Stiles's hair-- without the gel, it was incredibly soft.

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned into the touch with a barely audible sigh. "So do you," he answered. "Hell, you're the best thing I've seen in weeks. I'm sorry I was late."

Derek's lips twitched, but he focused on Stiles's last sentence. "Why were you?"

"Family vacation," Stiles explained with a laugh. "The first time in years my dad's been able to take more than a couple days off work and it's right at the end of the summer. I couldn't say no."

Derek had to smile at that. "So things are better with your dad?"

"Much. There was a lot of yelling and some tears, but I think we understand each other better now. He's coming to visit in a few weeks." Stiles looked away then, but only briefly. "He wants to meet you."

Derek's gaze snapped back to meet Stiles's. "As who?"

Stiles was back to blushing, the bright pink of his skin made even more obvious in contrast with the crisp white of his shirt. "As my boyfriend," he said. "If that's what you want."

Derek smiled, his hand coming to rest against Stiles's neck. "I'd like that," he admitted.

"Oh good," Stiles let out on a breathless laugh, his grin practically blinding. "'Cause I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you."

Derek blinked, and then grinned. "Same here," he confessed. "Think I have been for a while."

And there was really nothing Stiles could say to that, so he just pulled Derek in for a kiss.


End file.
